


The Binding

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas has nowhere to turn, Crowley controls Cas, Forced Orgasm, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, season six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11805150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: Cas should have looked a little closer at the small print.  But he didn't, and Crowley takes full advantage.





	The Binding

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt @ SPN Kink meme.

Always, Crowley knows, read the small print. 

No one told that prim little seraph that, he thinks, but that is not his problem.

“This is taking too long, pet, don’t you think?

Only a few days ago, Cas would have responded with either outright snark or even a shove that would have put Crowley through a wall.

Now he simply rolls his eyes, as if that jibe is one he’s heard many times before, and goes on scanning the book that might hold a clue to the location of purgatory.

Crowley smirks. They’re on a slippery slope, he and Cas, but the difference between them is that that it leads where Crowley wants to go, and when they reach the bottom, he will definitely be on top.

::

All the same, he spies on Cas, and finds some twisted pleasure in how Dean inadvertently helps push Cas towards him.

Now he’s watching the hunter chide Cas for not responding to the bat signal as fast as the hunter would have liked.

Cas fumbles with an excuse - he can hardly tell Dean he was trying to locate the doorway to Heaven’s waiting room with the King of Hell - but Dean keeps sniping and shoving, and finally Cas snaps.

His rebuke is brutal and Crowley realises after a minute he’s standing there with his mouth open. If he actually cared, there’s part of him that would be applauding the angel finally standing up for himself against Dean Winchester’s grinding neediness.

But Dean’s expression is a delight. He looks astonished, and his temper catches up a moment later to realise he just got burned - severely - by the family angel.

Except Cas is more his angel now than Dean’s. By the time the hunter can formulate a no doubt scathing response, Cas is gone in a flutter of wings.

Crowley can track him easily, thanks to their arrangement. He follows and finds Cas standing on the banks of a lake. He watches the angel pelt stones into the water.

“Rough day at the office, pet?”

Cas huffs. “He doesn’t understand.”

Crowley sidles over to him. He stands closer than he’s ever done, and the angel barely seems to notice. 

“Of course he doesn’t,” Crowley says, voice laden with sympathy. _Can’t really understand if you don’t tell him_ , he thinks. Dean’s working on half a story here, and it must be driving him a little crazy that he can’t bring Cas to heel or work out what’s going on with him.

But he isn’t going to point that out to Cas. It’d rather defeat the purpose of this all.

When he slides an arm around the angel’s shoulder, it takes Cas a moment to shrug him off with a look and then flap away.

Crowley smiles as he senses Cas’s route, and notes it steers well clear of anybody named Winchester.

::

The longer their arrangement continues, the more concrete it becomes. Crowley can feel it, and he wonders if the angel can too.

The stress of Heaven’s ongoing civil war, the pull the Winchesters are exerting on him, the sneaky visits to the cage to try and recover Sam’s soul - oh, yes, he knows about that - are probably a major distraction. 

Inch by inch by inch he is burrowing under Cas’s skin and it’s too late then for the seraph to dig him out even if he has realised what Crowley has done.

He’s in deep and he plans to keep digging. It’s amazing what a binding a little piece of the essence of the King of Hell and a smidgen of angelic Grace can become.

Its influence on the leader of Heaven’s resistance is certainly intense. Crowley almost wishes Dean knew, so he could crow about _this_ profound bond, but there will be time for that later.

For now, he watches Cas lead a small team of angels on a mission against a group of Raphael’s cohorts, catch them by surprise, and slaughter them all.

The angel despises his actions, but Crowley loves every second.

::

He sits calmly on his throne, and watches as Cas falls to his knees. He collapses forward, panting, sweat beading on every inch of bare skin. 

Crowley stands, and comes to crouch next to him. He runs his fingers across the slick skin between Cas’s wings, marking a line in sweat and gland oil.

“All work and no play,” he croons. “You’ll run yourself into the ground, angel.”

Cas raises his head to glare at him, but Crowley can feel his nerves jangling. Every muscle trembles with the effort of keeping him from hitting the floor.

“I’ll put you in it first,” he promises. 

By now, Cas certainly knows what he’s done, or is at last well past the denial stage.

Crowley stands up, tsks, and makes a gesture. Cas actually yelps, and tips onto his side. The king of hell watches him for a few moments, before taking pity and letting his body settle again.

It’s rather erotic watching a seraph lying there, naked and panting, with some oddly human attempt at modesty as he tucks himself into a ball to hide the parts demons probably shouldn’t see.

But it’s a brief respite at best. Crowley isn’t done with him yet.

“You’re a very naughty little angel, Castiel,” he says. “We did have an arrangement and all the time, you planned to double cross me. I’m actually quite hurt; we’re partners after all.”

Cas groans, whether at the aches tormenting him, or the realisation that Crowley has him literally in his power. “Don't pretend,” he gasps, “for a single moment that you wouldn’t have done the same. I want those souls to stop a war, Crowley. You want them to fulfil your pathetic thirst for power. For renown.”

When Crowley waves a hand at him this time, the pain is nothing to do with pleasure. 

Cas’s screams echo further than the walls of the throne room. 

“You’re hardly in any position to be looking down on me, Castiel. Lying to all your friends, allies, human pets. Is there anybody in this whole mess you’ve been honest with? Even yourself?”

When Cas is able to push himself back onto his knees, Crowley gets a certain dark satisfaction when he sees the angel can’t look him in the face.

“No, I thought not.” With their _agreement_ a stone collar around the angel’s neck, he could halt Cas’s actions with a word. But he enjoys the game. Cas might be the sneakiest seraph to walk the hallowed halls of Heaven - one of these days, Crowley might have to worry about him being a potential rival for his own throne - but for now, the angel can’t outfox him.

And every time Cas tries, Crowley knows he’ll be here on his knees at most a few hours later, confessing his sins.

And Crowley will let him earn his absolution. 

“Come a little closer, angel,” he says, beckoning. “And I’ll whisper your penance.”


End file.
